Where We Coincide
by raiko.EXE
Summary: He questions whether its a charm or curse that's led him there. – Kayn x Irelia


It's festival season in the Placidium when Kayn first sees her. The music draws him to the lights lining the main road where within the procession, the lead acolyte shines brighter than the rest. With a lotus pinning up her hair, she paves the way with the traditional ribbon dances of Navori. A warmth seeps through him as she sends a smile in his direction, even if he's convinced it's just for show. But while her beauty is what first captures his attention, it's not the only reason why he's fixated on her – He's almost sure seen her somewhere before, but can't quite place where. Before he can give it any more thought, however, she disappears with the rhythm of the score, and the notion leaves him as quickly as it came.

It isn't until later that he's reminded when his eyes catch a faint glimmer among the steps. Looking closer, he finds a hairpin among the stone – a single lotus decorating its end – and immediately regrets ever noticing. There's only one acolyte who adorned the flower in such a fashion, and that, in itself, is a bother. But after some trepidation, Kayn finds himself retrieving it, in case he might see her again during his stay.

And he does, sooner than expected, on one of the gardens suspended by the land's natural magic. He questions whether its a charm or curse that's led him there, since she's standing in an inconvenient and out-of-the-way spot that he has to do a double-take just to make sure it's actually her. She's still and silent on the island below, the way she stares pensively into the night certainly makes it seem like she's somewhere else. It makes Kayn contemplate coming back later, _like when she's alive_.

But he doesn't want to come back later. He wants to give her the hairpin that's been heavy in his possession so he can be free of the burden and continue on his way. Realizing there's no bridge connecting to the island she occupies, he's forced to use the hanging vines it to climb down. They prove sturdy enough, and his feet land with an audible crunch on the grass – a stark contrast to the sound of water pouring over the land's edge.

The noise alarms her as she turns to face him, and it's the first time he gets a clear look at her. The acolyte robes suit her all the same, but her disposition is different. She's all stance and readiness at his intrusion, and her arms appear strong and powerfully interesting. He could look further, see that she was meant to be another person, but she notices and her eyes narrow – she doesn't want him there.

But it's not the reason he's here, and he certainly isn't looking to get involved. "You lost this," he states, retrieving the hairpin from his pocket to extend to her. He sees her blink, then sigh when she realizes he means no harm.

"How foolish of me," she chides before walking along the edge of the pool to meet him. Her fingertips brush the surface of his palm as she retrieves the sigil. "Thank you," she tells him sincerely before pinning the lotus back in its rightful position.

He nods, ready to take his leave when she asks, "What's your name?"

The question leaves him unwillingly rooted, and it takes him a moment to decide whether or not he should answer. "Kayn."

"I'm Irelia," she says with a small smile, and this time there's no doubt that it's for him. "Where are you from, Kayn?"

"Somewhere far away," he answers in reticence, unwilling to reveal too much to a woman who's just as much of a mystery.

"I see," she replies, not sounding too disappointed. "Well, you should consider staying a while. It might help you find what you're looking for." Her eyes travel perceptively to the scythe resting on his back.

"What do you know?" Kayn demands, abruptly on edge.

"Only what the rumors have told me," her tone is oddly apologetic, like she wishes she could tell him more. "But as thanks, tell the sentinels of the athenaeum I sent you. They should let you pass."

He's not completely sure if he can trust the information, but with what time he had left, it would be foolish to overlook an opportunity.

"...Irelia," he repeats cautiously, so he can be certain. Her name lingers on his tongue as he searches for a flavor.

"Irelia," she confirms before their roles reverse and she walks away, perfuming the air around him. "Good luck, Kayn."

 _I don't know you_ , he wants to tell her, but finds himself unable to as her footsteps fall like brittle words, leaving him to the night.

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Kayn dreams of a world bathed in red, watching behind his own eyes as the land is scorched and sundered. Rhaast's ghoulish laugh echoes through the plane between realms where he's trapped, where no one can hear his cries for help.

He can only travel so far in this place, reaching a jagged crevice when the ground begins to crumble as if cut by a jagged knife. As the stones begin to give way underneath his feet, he peers over the world's edge and cannot see the bottom.

He opens his eyes. The bottomless chasm becomes a room bathed in sunlight, and the demonic laughter is replaced by the birds outside the window. The pain in his arm reminds him of where he is and the answers he must find, and with a steady sigh, Kayn rises from his futon to ready himself for the day.

He's surprised when the sentinels allow him in without question, as promised. It makes him wonder what sort of influence the woman holds as he steps inside. The repository of Ionian history is vast with high ceilings and tall shelves, but he manages to picks a tome to start with. He skims its pages for anything concerning the Darkin weapons and the vengeful spirits that occupy them. Going in order by the volumes, it takes him almost two days to find something useful. But soon after he's gathered a healthy amount of notes that keep compiling.

As he travels back from the Placidium that night, he finds himself on a floating garden with a figure silhouetted against the stars. He owes her this much for helping him, he thinks to himself as he climbs down the vines. Irelia brightens when she sees him, like she's been waiting.

"Hello, Kayn," she says brightly. She's donning bright fuchsia that reflects in the pool beside her, and it finally comes back to him. He remembers the smell of the ocean, a united front against Noxus, and a young girl among the rebels.

"You were at Dalu Bay," he states, recalling the fierce spirit she carried as the young leader of the resistance many years ago.

"I was hoping you might remember," she says, seemingly pleased that he's recognized her. They hadn't spoken on the war front, but the bright color is familiar and suits her now as much as it did then.

"I'm more surprised that the famed war hero remembers me," He tells her wryly now that she's more familiar. But instead of appearing proud, her smile fades. It's not what she wants to hear.

"Things have changed," she tells him simply. Her words seem to carry futility and steel instead of strength. It's the place she doesn't want him, and he wonders if it's the reason she comes here.

"But it would be hard to forget you, young prodigy of shadow," she says, taking a seat among the blooms. It makes him question what she exactly she remembers from that day, but the thought eludes him as her voice softens. "Especially after learning what became of you."

His left fist clenches reflexively at its mention, and his immediate thought is if she judges him for it, but the look she sends him speaks otherwise, like she somehow understands the consequences he faces

She allows her eyes to fall to the city beneath them before asking, "Do you ever regret the path you've chosen?"

The question comes swinging at him like a sword, catching him off guard like a rookie. It's something he's ruminated often, but never thought to express to another person.

"I used to," he finally says as he takes the spot beside her. "But I've accepted my fate as something I need to overcome."

"That's quite brave of you," she notes with interest.

"What about you?" he asks as he leans back on his hands, recalling what had happened after her dissent from the Brotherhood. "Do you regret the things you've done?"

"I'm not quite sure," Irelia says honestly as the lights of Navori flicker below them. They sit together in silence while he waits, while she remembers, and the evening grows old.

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Kayn sits near one of the windows, thumbing through a book while replaying the walk back last night when he sees fuchsia in the courtyard. Irelia is below, overseeing the acolytes in their ceremonial dances, and the way she moves with effortless grace leaves the text in his hands temporarily forgotten.

He doesn't know how long he's been staring when she swings her gaze skyward to the very window where he's suddenly doing his best impression of a statue. But the smile she sends him chips at his stony exterior, and he can only haphazardly tear his eyes back to the book in his lap while hoping she won't remember.

But a few days later, Kayn finds himself once again on a floating garden amidst a cloudless night sky. A certain gravity is what pulls him there this time with celebratory music echoing from the city below.

She grins once he's descended, gesturing for him to join her. "Thanks for walking me back the other night."

"No problem," he replies honestly. "I didn't know you lived within the Placidium."

"It's only temporary," she assures him, though how temporary, she wasn't quite sure. "Sorry if it was out of your way."

"Don't worry about it," he tells her, willing to do it again. The music grows louder, carrying fully to their height.

"Are you a dancer, Kayn?" she asks coyly, alluding to the encounter he'd hoped she'd forgotten.

"No," he says definitively, still lamenting the memory in his head.

"Would you like to learn?"

"Not really–" he begins, but finds himself being tugged by the wrist anyway. He stumbles as she leads him to more even ground.

"You'll be fine," she says, unflinching at the corrupt flesh of his left arm as she places his hands. "Trust me."

He eventually relents, and she leads with patience. His shoulders are stiff and his motions are unsure, but gradually, his hold relaxes around her and his steps come to tempo. The movement patterns come more naturally as he begins to recognize the patterns, and when he finally takes his eyes off of his feet, he sees Irelia smiling broadly at him.

It's a surprise that he's able to keep up for a bit longer too, until a well concealed depression suddenly gives way under his heel. He staggers and releases her so he can better regain his footing.

"You aren't half bad," she chuckles as he rights himself, but still sounds impressed.

"And you're a liar," he retorts, biting back a grin of his own. Kayn is positive he's uninjured, but she beckons him to sit anyway.

"Why are you here and not with your people?" he asks. She lives and breathes the air of Navori, but something holds her back from returning to her home.

She frowns, but doesn't dodge. "Because I still question if what I've done was right." Her arms cross over her chest as if cradling a wound.

"Tell me," he says, straightforward and honest. _I want to know you_.

Much like himself, it's difficult for her to be open, but slowly, after some trepidation, she begins to tell her story. She tells him of how Noxus drove her out of her home, and how she eventually became an unwilling figurehead for a land now divided. He allows her the same patience she harbored while guiding his feet, and listens until the stars pave way to the sunrise.

When he sees her during the day, she's a completely different woman to him. There's an unspoken agreement as the sun watches, and they converse in polite, perfunctory sentences, if they converse at all. But under a dome of discreet stars, they sit among the flowers and speak to the city, to each other.

As the evenings pass, he learns more and more about her. She has a fear of the ocean, and she was the only daughter among many brothers. Her favorite snack is chadango, her favorite season is spring, and she once considered joining the Order of Shadow long ago.

He recounts how he'd been left to die until being found by his master, and about life within the shadow monastery. He tells her how he obtained Rhaast, and how the archives say his kind originated from a forgotten empire of the sands. He reveals how he's always reveled in the fear of his victims, so it must be punishment for him to be consumed by it now, and by his own weapon, no less

They compare blade arts to shadow magic. They argue over which type of tea is superior, barley or jasmine, and if dessert is an actual meal. She says he should put a shirt on before he catches a cold. He tells her armguards are accessories, and not actual clothing. She promises to kick his ass someday. He welcomes her to try.

Kayn finds himself looking for her often while within the walls of the Placidium. He scans crowds for her, sneaks glances out of windows in hopes of seeing her passing by. When he does catch a glimpse of her, his breath hitches in his throat. Will she see me? And when she does, their eyes meet, she smiles, he's caught, and the foundations of his world shake differently than they do in his dreams.

At night, long after he's walked Irelia back to the temple and throws himself into his futon, Kayn realizes that he's seeing less red as he dreams, and doesn't know whether he should be relieved or worried.

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"What's your family name, Kayn?" Her question comes after spending the last twenty minutes giving ridiculous names to the newly imagined constellations they've been gazing at. He refrains from answering, shifting his weight from one numb sitbone to the other.

"Oh, come on," she cajoles. "I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours"

He yawns, stalling, and crosses his arms. "Why don't you tell me yours first, and then I'll think about telling you mine."

"Fine" she scowls, clearly impatient. "Xan. Xan Irelia. Your turn."

He allows another beat to pass before obliging her. "Shieda."

"Shieda," she repeats, eyebrows darting together as she searches for its origin. "What province is your family from?"

"I'm not from here," he finally admits to her. "It was the name that was given to me by my master when I was found."

She blinks, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I was an orphan," Kayn reveals steadily. "From Noxus Prime."

It answers the question he'd initially dodged when they first met, and continued to dodge for fear of her looking at him differently. His breath hitches in his throat as she leans in, carefully examining his features.

"I wouldn't have guessed," she remarks simply, and he feels the weight come off his shoulders as she gives him room to breathe.

"What do you think would have happened if you'd stayed with them?" she asks with a curious tilt of her head.

"Seeing how the war turned out, I'd probably be dead." He answers swiftly, not having much else to think about. Being a child soldier, his life had been forfeited from the start.

"Under different circumstances we might have never met, then," she states after giving it some thought. "I don't know how I should feel about that."

Neither does he.

"It would be similar if your family wasn't affected," Kayn tells her then. "In that life, you might have been happier."

"Maybe," she reflects for a moment before shaking her head. "But there's no guarantee we would have survived much longer after that, either."

"So this reality is fine, then," he mentions as a content grin makes its way onto his face.

"I suppose so," she willingly relents, adopting a smile of her own before leaning her head on his shoulder.

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It's been days since Kayn has dreamt, and the radiating pain in his arm has become curiously absent. The time spent he spends in the garden, with her, makes him feel more human, and he wonders if it's what's keeping Rhaast's possession at bay. But deep down, he knows it's not a solution or a cure. So long as the demon remained sentient within its vessel, he could truly consider himself free, and Ionia and its people would still be in danger.

The number of unread tomes grows smaller by the day, and he's gathered more than enough leads to continue his journey. He needs to move forward, just like his heart heedlessly does whenever she's around.

It's been nearly a month since his first visit to their spot when he decides to tell her. He's the first one to reach the garden that evening which is unusual, but when he finally sees her, he realizes why. The flower in her hair is the same as when they first met, and she descends the vines carefully as to not dirty her robes. Despite the sinking feeling in his chest, he smiles fondly as he meets her at the bottom, extending a hand to her.

"The performance ran late," Irelia explains, smoothing her hair as she sits with him among the blooms and tells him about her evening.

Kayn finds it hard to fully listen with the departure weighing heavily on his mind. Unfortunately for him, she's perceptive enough to notice.

"Is everything alright?" she asks with a curious tilt of her head.

"I leave for Pallas tomorrow," he says without preamble, and his heart wrenches as her expression falters. "You should come with me," he suggests, though he already knows what her answer will be.

"You know I can't," she responds, as expected. She has her own obstacles to overcome, and it would be selfish to bother her with his.

 _I don't know if I can do this without you._ He thinks, not wanting the nightmares to return, and not wanting this to be a goodbye.

Her gaze softens at his words, quietly echoing the sentiment. After a moment, she takes the lotus pin from her hair, giving it a twirl before placing it into his palm.

"When you feel like you're slipping away, let this bring you here." Irelia says, wrapping her fingers around his to close over its stem.

"And when you've conquered your demons, bring it back to me, like you did once before," she adds, smiling fondly as she remembers.

Tracing the petals with his thumb, Kayn closes his eyes. He sees an afterimage, a snapshot's negative. There are rocks crumbling, color fading, a dream ebbing.

And when his eyes open, he sees her – Irelia. _I know you_.

"I promise," he says, her hand still firmly on his when he kisses her. Her lips tastes sweet on his, and it's definitely, Kayn thinks, a charm instead of a curse that first brought him to this place.

Even if they were apart, he would always know where to find her.

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Written for the League of Legends themed zine, Rosaria, which featured different champions and flowers. Awesome collab art used for the cover was done by wyrmforge on tumblr/twitter, so be sure to check her out as well :)

I've had this finished for a while, so I'm finally glad to be able to post this piece, especially since my updates on other works have been slow. I'm sorry I haven't been writing for these two, but know it's not out of lack of interest, but that life has gotten hectic and I have less time to write. Thanks to my readers who have remained patient with me, and I'll try to produce more works soon!


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